And Here We Go Again

Well talk about being missing in action. I had to step away from the keyboard.  Blogs can be dangerous, more dangerous than drunk texting…and left over birthday cake.  I’ve been doing a lot of millennial, Gen-Y, finding yourself and what makes you happy type of stuff.  What I discovered?  What I’ve been doing all along is what makes me happy. I didn’t have to look very far (surprise, surprise).  My problem was that I was letting outside factors affect my so-called “inner peace”, because we all know I don’t always lean towards peaceful.  I started to care what people thought or say, which has never really been like me.  I put my happiness in someone else’s hands; it happens more often that we like to admit.  I became focused on what I couldn’t control, which just made you want to control it even more.  It’s a vicious cycle.  It kind of just took away from everything I had worked so hard towards this year.  So I decided I am going to be selfish.  Yea I know, that’s socially unacceptable to say, kind of makes you sound like a bad person. But it is what needs to be done at the moment; it’s kind of my turn.  As a result relationships may grow apart, that’s life.  I am not responsible for someone’s happiness, unless there’s mutual effort.

True.

So in my absence I was offered a work trip to South Asia for two weeks, where it was then snatched away as soon as I got a reservation ticket. I would be leaving tomorrow; needless to say I may be having an extra glass of wine…or two.  It was my escape plan.  I’ll say it happened for a reason, god forbid I got stuck in some kind of tsunami situation.  We all know I can’t run fast enough to escape a towering wave.  I fell off my bike again, yes again.  I’m going to attribute it to the car pulling boat that cut off the group…or my poor bike handling skills, you be the judge.  Either way, I hit pavement and it hurt like hell.  My knee was pretty ugly, a beautiful array of black and blues. We took a trip to Clermont and it was exactly what I needed. I got to watch my first circuit race. Cheer on a few of my favorite’s bike their way to the podium…and I put my big girl panties and signed up for my first road race.  I knew it was going to hurt, it’s Clermont (hills, hills, hills), I knew I was in no shape to do this, and I would have usually said no.  So I signed up and put on my race number. I didn’t technically finish, I got dropped in the first climbed (seriously dropped), children passed me.  In my defense those kids are doping. I got overlapped, almost lost a lung to Ebola, and kept getting yelled at by a coach about being in too light of a gear (I heard you the first time!).  But I had a damn good time doing it and I did it for me. I did it because I would usually say no.

 ❤                      Thanks for the push rooms 🙂                                               A4C takeover.                            

I’ve started picking races for next season.  This is a very meticulous process, kind of like selecting your fantasy football.  Have to make sure they have enough time apart, take a survey of what other crazies are racing, and figure out when you’re actually willing to really start training again.  I’ve just been playing on my bike honestly.   I’m back in training mode though, signed up for Miami Half Marathon.  Started cooking again, I have spent a small fortune on Publix rotisserie chickens and bagged microwavable veggies. This had to stop.   I’m in PR or ER kind of mode with this.  I don’t think I’ve been so focused on hitting a time than I am with this race.  I usually appreciate just crossing the finish line, this time I’ll appreciate it even more if I hit my goal.  Here we go again, let training begin. ~ Adding Mo Miles.

In life, in love, and with your coffee…

Mission Accomplished

I finished my last post nervous that I would come back saying that for whatever I didn’t cross the finish. Well, I can now say I am an Ironman! Not only am I an Ironman, but I can say it has to be one of the greatest experiences to-date. I know you’re all thinking I’ve lost my mind but I had such a great race.  I finished in exactly 14 hours, about an hour less than I had calculated.  How?  I just kept running.  I ran 1 mile, 26 times. What made it best was how great the entire trip was.  Somehow the race flew by but I soaked up as much of it as I could.  It was genuinely fun.

The most exhausting part of Ironman isn’t always the race but the days and traveling leading up to it.  The stress of work, fitting in training, and making sure you don’t forget anything when you pack.  Traveling an entire day doesn’t exactly result in rested legs but we made our way to Louisville, Kentucky. I hoped for minimal crisis situations but as I’m falling asleep on the plane, it came to me half slumber that I forgot to pack my Garmin.  MY GARMIN.  In true fashion, I flip out.  God bless in flight wi-fi, whatsapp, a teammate who still hadn’t left Miami, and one great friend who sent hers with him.  Crisis 1 averted.  The anxiety leading up to the day of the race, packet pick-up, bike pick-up…and then bike-drop off, bags drop-off, walk here, find food I can eat, test the bike, swim practice.  It doesn’t help calm the nerves when you jump into the disgusting Ohio River and the current is so bad if you stop swimming it takes you back 25 yards.  Sigh of relief though, this isn’t the swim we’ll be facing, the current is actually in our favor.  Big pasta dinner….and it’s race morning.

We made it to Louisville!

Bike Drop Off

Louisville is unique in that it is not a mass start.  Most Ironmen, all 2K plus participants start at the same time.  Sounds thrilling right.  We got to line up before sunrise to stand in line for rolling start.  The cannon went off and 15 minutes later I was on the pier, Katy Perry playing, jumping into dirty water.  The rolling start sounds less nerve wrecking right?  Right up to when I saw rows of green capped muscles heading my way after I jumped in.  The first 45 minutes was a battle I loss with the men.  I was kicked in the rib, may have popped a boob if they were fake, swallowed Ohio River water (I may start glowing soon). I got in a few punches, threw out some elbows. Don’t get me started on the cleanliness of the river.  I made it out alive (slower than I would have liked) and into transition.  Changing tent was less chaotic than expected, changed, found my bike, and off I went.  This is where my fun started.  By this point I just wanted breakfast, cause I was starving.  I settled for a Bonk Breaker and went on my merry way.  Only 112 miles on the bike to go.  No cadence, no problems.  I only prayed to the bike gods for no mechanical problems.  Bike was going smoothly until I made a right for an out and back.  I was hitting a downhill at 40 mph.  The problem with that, what goes down in an out and back, must come up….and up we did.  I kept myself entertained, keeping track of nutrition, calculating times, speed, what mile I was at.  Time passed quickly and I was having fun.  Water, water, water, pills, blocks, yum another bonk breaker.  It was warm, but nothing impossible.  I learned when you gotta go, you gotta go.  There was nothing rolling about those hills, just a lot of up. I saved my legs, and in the last 30 miles, I picked up the pace and headed back.  To the guy that encouraged me, instead of hiss negative comments when I passed him, thank you.  Your words stuck with me to the finish line.  To the lady spectators cheering on us “Ironwomen” in the heat, thank you.  I got to dismount (6:34 bike time, right on target) and got off the bike fearing the current status of my legs.  Wait, what?  I can walk!  They’re ready to run.

I took my time in T2 cause I knew what was coming.  Where I mentally struggle, where I physically struggle and what I knew would be the most challenging.  One the other hand, I was 2/3 of the way.  I may still have had 6-7 hours (or so I thought) left but I was technically almost done.  I had a plan of running aid station to aid station.  Didn’t necessarily matter how fast, just that I didn’t walk it.  I wanted to reach a point that I knew if I walked the rest I would still make it under 17.  So I set on my merry way, taking down water, sticking ice everywhere (yes down my shorts), wetting my head, and eating my blocks (praying my stomach would just cooperate).  Mile 3 passed, mile 5, 6, 9, and I looked down and I was almost half way there.  Wait a second, I can keep this plan and possibly trot the whole thing.  I smiled, I chatted, made friends, I danced.  At mile 17 is when I realized I could get under 14 hours.  At this point, my knees where yelling mercy, my muscles were cramping.  My eyes watered every time I started up after each aid station.  I took an ibuprofen, started having a few pretzels (they saved me) and kept at it.  At aid station 19 I ran into a volunteer who asked me if I was second loop.  He could tell by response I was in pain and walked with me as I drank my water.  He told me I can walk the rest and still be an Ironman or I can keep at it and make it to the turnaround where I would only have 10K left.  “I know you have ran many 10Ks, the faster you get there, the faster you can have a beer” Thank you, I picked up the pace and made it into downtown right under 14 hours.  But nothing would prepare when I would turn the corner and see 4^th street live and two blocks of spectators just cheering you on.  It is more of an emotional rush than I can explain.   The more emotional I got, the louder the crowd cheered.  I stopped right when the shoot started and took it all in.  I admit, I cried, I let out yells of joy.  I honestly didn’t think this was something I would ever be able to accomplish, atleast not as solid, and everything just came out at that moment. By the time I got to the finish line it was too loud to hear my name, but I would never forget hearing “You are an Ironman.”  14:00:06.

1st x Ironman & 3 x Ironman!

I was told to enjoy every minute of it and I did.  The vibe of athletes, the silent nerves, the energy, the uncertainty of the day ahead.   I was told that I would come back a different person and it’s true.  Thank you Ironman for changing me, for allowing to find my real strength, to know I am capable of more…and that it really is your mind that pushes thru the pain.  Thank you Ironman, your training got me thru hard times, got me out of bed when I didn’t want to, made me stronger in many senses.  This race was something I needed to do for me.  Thank you to my training team, you mean more to me than you know and made this experience more than memorable.  To our Kona qualifier, thank you for constantly pushing me, training me, your patience and just being there.  Congratulations. To all those who supported us back home, thank you! To my sister, you were with my every step, love you.  To the hundreds of volunteers and spectators, without you, many of us wouldn’t be Ironmen, thank you.  To all those participants, congratulations, you are an Ironman.  Would I do it again?  Without a doubt! But for now, there are other things and goals brewing.   It’s time to take some time to really enjoy it all.  ~ AddingMoMiles.

Memorable Trip

Cloud 9

Race Week, Really?!

So I sat on the floor last night infront of the pile of race gear, pills, heed, nutrition, sunblock, socks, Vaseline, etc etc wrapping my head (and calming myself) about the race being so close.  Yea, just sitting there.  It felt so far far away when I started training for it back in February.  Ha, jokes on me, cause it’s here.  We’ve been checking the weather more than Al Roker.  Freakin’ out as we see the temperature for Sunday climb.  It’s about 97 degrees right now, you check another site, it tells you 99.  There really isn’t a big difference between 97-99 .  It’s gonna be f’ing hot.  You can’t control it, you can only prepare for it.  And put ice down your pants! Oh believe me, it feels nice.

What I looked like on the floor of my room.

All the talk about heat brings me flash backs of my first (and only) half ironman..PTSD kind of stuff.  It was also in the 90 degrees and it did not go well.  I was slightly traumatized and told myself I would never do an Ironman.  Look at me now.  But I made a promise to myself to train, to prepare and to think differently.  I even surprised myself by sticking to my training plan as much as I did.  There were still hours that weren’t swum, or missed miles on the bike.  I don’t know if it’ll make a difference, nor do I care, what’s done is done. LOUISVILL IS HERE! (typing turrets).  I’ve been told that training for an Ironman is harder than the actual Ironman; I’ll let you know if it’s true, I don’t really believe them.  I trained for this race not on speed, but preparing myself to just keep going.  I’m not fast, but I got my Ironman trot down, even got my speed walking shuffle.  Slow and steady is going to get me to the finish line and it’s the race plan I’m sticking to. The best thing about it being your first, I have no time to beat.  I am nervous, but not about what I can do, but about things that I can’t control.  I have my race plan A, B, C, D and crawling.  I got my nutrition down to the hour. And I apparently need to use the number of times I pee to monitor my hydration; must pee twice during the bike (hopefully no one steals my bike while I’m in the port-o-potty).  I’m prepared, I’ve trained, I am ready.  I rollercoaster between a frat boy LETS DO THIS and a very scared holy crap.

My current status

I leave tomorrow morning for Louisville and that one of hardest thing is doing it without my family there.  They haven’t been to many of my races, but the one they were there for has been my favorite by far.  There are many things I’ll forget about these races, you start to do so many, but one of the few things I’ll keep with me is my sister sprinting the finish line next to me screaming like if I had come in first (far from it).  She’ll be there in spirit and it’ll get me to the finish line, in one way or another she manages to show her incredible support.  But I am blessed with a great training team, even those not doing the race.  Without them, I wouldn’t be doing this race and I wouldn’t have gotten thru a lot these last couple of months.  To them I’m so grateful.  Alright enough mush, I’m becoming a sap, and hopefully the next post will be telling you that I am officially an Ironman.  Actually, it will be.  Next stop, Louisville, Kentucky. ~ AddingMoMiles.

Countdown Begins

 

61 day till Louisville!!! #@%&!!! Now that I have that off my chest…can you tell I’m a little excited. Yes, excited! Surprisingly not nervous, scared or curled up in the fetal position in a corner. I thought at this point in training I would have had some kind of breakdown or sending this race to hell but I’m not. I can honestly say it isn’t going too bad. I would love to bask in the glory that is sleeping in some Sundays and not come close to running a half marathon on a Thursday night that leaves me comatose but in general I’m staying pretty calm and collected. This kind of worries me cause calm and collected isn’t really my thing. I may be making this up, but I’m going to say I feel like I’m finally mentally there; lets light some candles this last until race day.

Life out by Robert’s in Homestead

I think it’s seeing the results that have me in this I will survive moment.  After a lot of frustration, some anger, and a few temper tantrums, my bike is where I want it to be. I’m hitting averages that I have never hit before. They say it’s the borrowed 404’s, I’m saying it’s all my big ol’legs. I’m well on my way to my goal time for the bike in the race. My goal is to cross the finish line but I got a few times in my head to keep me a little motivated on race day. No, I won’t be sharing them. I am genuinely enjoying being on the bike. Maybe not always 5 hours, but I don’t look at it like homework. I was constantly thinking and over analyzing when I would go out on the bike. What if I start to hard and blow up my legs, I don’t like being in the group cause it’s absolute madness sometimes, am I drinking enough water? Screw that. Now I’m getting on that bike, getting all up in the group, pushing myself and it’s a damn good time. If my legs blow up, I just pedal myself back at whatever speed they can go. Obviously this isn’t my race day strategy, but it’s getting me the strength, speed and mental willpower I’m going to need because when you’re 3:30 hours in, you’re legs screaming mercy, and you’re still out there in the middle of homestead, you have no choice but to make it back. My run, doesn’t get a whole soliloquy like my bike (no surprise) but I’m getting thru them. We don’t always see eye to eye but I don’t dread them anymore (progress).

Seriously

There are few things one fears when training more than injury. This past weekend the back of my knee really started to hurt, turns out it’s my calf. So much that I had to take Sunday off. I did bask in the glory that is sleeping in Sunday morning, but it was bittersweet. I wanted to train; I don’t want to put my progress on pause.   But better a few days than a few weeks. I am worried, moments of panic as I limped back to my car when it started to hurt again on yesterday’s run but I’m icing, rolling, and going straight to therapy before it gets any worse. Ain’t no one got time for this ~ Adding Mo Miles

Piece of Cake

I would like a piece of cake right now, but that isn’t what this post is about. “This week is meant to break you” words from my very dear friend trying to calm me down on the phone Thursday. I apparently was alborotada (in an uproar is the Google translation). I had spent most of the week with a half-cold. It’s when you don’t feel 100% but it’s not a full blown cold. I attribute it to lots of training and a germ infestation in the office. This was hard for me to deal with because it was suppose to be a build week. I wasn’t ready to be out of commission recovering. So come Thursday, time for a long run and I had a Mo moment. Called it a day an hour in and left infuriated with myself and running. I couldn’t hit the pace I wanted, my knees hurt, my stomach was bothering me, I was just pissed. After about a 10 minute call, rational words (surprise, surprise, I was being irrational), and some calm words of motivation, I was better. I was still very frustrated, but tomorrow would be another day.

(Thank you Ryan)

The weekend was approaching and we were putting in some hours. I knew it would happen, but it was still kind of daunting that I was almost late for a 3pm appointment from training that I started at 7am and that I was having breakfast at 1:30pm, it’s become tradition, breakfast after training ❤ . So we set off on our 4:30 ride, in a nice little cloudy drizzle. About an hour in we were layered with street gunk and dirt. Kind of made you feel like a bad ass and really gross all at same the time. The last 4+ hour ride I did, the last hour was painful and my speed was a little embarrassing. This time, I felt strong, kept pace above my race goal, and wasn’t desperate to get off the bike. We finished covered in dirt, smelling like wet dog, and feeling pretty good about ourselves. A big breakfast, compression socks, a burger for dinner, and some quality couch time and I was feeling good for Sunday.

Wind, wind, and more wind. It’s the story of living in Miami and that’s exactly what we got on Sunday. The ride is usually easy for me on bricks because my focus on Sundays is getting through the run.  I’d been having trouble reaching 1:30 on the run and I was suppose to run longer than I’ve ran to date in Ironman training, and the longest I’ve ever ran on a brick, 1:45. So I set out with the usual, looking at my pace, focusing on my speed and by the time I hit the Key Biscayne bridge I knew I wasn’t going to make it thru this run focusing on pace. This time I focused on keeping my mind strong and my spirits high. So I stopped looking at my watch and just ran, from water fountain to water fountain. I even started smiling at anyone who made eye contact, some smiled back, and some looked at me like I was a serial killer. I don’t exactly smile when I run…ever. I played some serious jedi mind tricks. High fiving friends I saw along the way (yea we’re cute like that). Checked out all the bikes (ok and maybe some cyclist), designed my own road bike in my head, chit chatted with strangers. If there’s any time to talk to a stranger it’s on a run.  Tried to make friends with the homeless man that guards a water fountain, he wasn’t a fan. Breaking the run down in 30 minute intervals, cause in my head I can run 30 minutes. My feet started to hurt and my muscles started to cramp, but seeing that I had made it comfortably to an hour and half, I was getting those last 15 minutes in.  It hurt but a weekend that was meant to break me, didn’t (that’s what’s up!). I was proud of us. So on the next week. Piece of cake no? ~ Adding Mo Miles

The Comeback

Call it a comeback! This weekend I can finally say I felt like myself, Monica Maria Rosa.  Also known as Mo, Moma, Le Mo, Le Monique, Momo… I have a lot of nicknames.  It’s been a very frustrating few weeks because I really learned how much of my conditioning I’d lost.  I spent a good three months on “off season.”  That doesn’t happen here in Miami, where we pretty much train year round.  At the end of last season I was drained physically, emotionally, and mentally.  I trained through absolute exhaustion and led to a burn out.  I didn’t want to hear the words swim, bike, run, or race.  I’m still angry with myself for letting this happen but you live, learn, and comeback! I’ve promised myself that I won’t allow anything or anyone let me get there again. 

Our Saturday morning ride started like any other, Mo getting dropped.  I’ve come to terms with it.  But this time it was different cause I wasn’t going to stay behind.  I found another group and went along for the ride.  As their pace creeped up to speeds I’ve never reached before, I started catching groups that had left me behind.  Lungs and legs burning, I was going to stick with them.  Long story short, I made it back to the store 25 minutes faster than last week.  I got off my bike and did a little dance, last week I got off with anger and frustration.  Progress.

For me it was Sunday‘s run that left me focused.  I felt so great running, I ran 15 minutes more than planned.  If you read my last post, you know this is rare…or nonexistent.  I ran longer and faster than I have in months and it felt damn good.  I kept pushing cause I would much rather focus on the pain than my thoughts.  I kept going cause I didn’t want to stop.  It was a beach run, I was in my place.  They almost sent out the search party.  What made the day perfect was breakfast with some of my favorites and then some quality time with my toes in the sand.

The last few weeks had me angry with the decisions I had made.  This weekend left me motivated and determined.  I’ve regained my focus. ~ Adding Mo Miles

 

 

Run Forrest Run

I highly dislike running (pause for reaction).  I don’t get excited about going for run.  For the most part it is not a stress reliever for me, quite the opposite.  I know what you’re thinking, “you’re a triathlete , you’re supposed to enjoy it.  Why do it? You make no sense!! ” It’s simple, the challenge.  To me the sport is synonymous with life.  Sometimes, you’re going to have to do things you don’t want to.  You’re going to go through things that are hard, difficult, draining in every way, and simply put, suck.  Well, that’s running for me and it prepares for those things.  Oh and who are we kidding, it does a body good. 

I go through the five stages of grief every single mile that I run.

1. Denial – I’m not going to run whatever amount of miles in my training calendar.  I am not running an hour! This isn’t happening ….nope this isn’t happening… nooooo!
2. Anger – Damn you running! I hate this sport! Why do I do this?  What is wrong with me?! I hate my coach (in all honesty I don’t)…
3. Bargaining – Ok, what if I run 55 minutes instead of an hour?  Does it really matter?
4. Depression – I’m all alone…I’ve been left behind again (cue in “All by Myself”)
5. Acceptance – I got this! I’m going to get it done!

I’m slowly coming to terms with running again, learning to accept it, and trying not to see it as the Darth Vader of triathlons. It’s a process, a slow one. So how do I make running less miserable?

I try to focus on anything else as soon as the negative starts to creep up and demons take over.  The Cuban international cycling team flying by me, the view of the water if I’m in Key Biscayne, unicorns, pot of gold… anything! Recently, what I’m going to write here has been a great distraction. 

 Every once in a while, I take a run for me. No watch, no pace, no determined distance. Just enjoy and oh my, I may just walk a bit and take it all in.  This is ludicrous to many triathletes and these may be rare for me now. 

Using those I train with as motivation.  I’m surrounded by some incredible and determined athletes.  Seeing how much they improve each and every session and race is motivation enough to keep me going.  But also avoiding a disapproving look from my “assistant” coach is sometimes enough.

I look for those moments in running that make it worth it.  That mile I got my pace lower than I have in the last two weeks, regardless of how bad the other miles were.  That moment I kept a decent running form cause it’s no surprise I have an awful running form.  I resemble a dancing T-Rex.  That moment where it doesn’t matter how hot it is, feels like I’m doing cartwheels on the sun, I’m pushing thru.  Out of 10 runs, I may have 2-3 real good ones.  Those are the ones I focus on, those are the ones that keep me at it. 

All the while “Run Forrest Run” is playing in my head. ~ Adding Mo Miles